


Pink Lips

by Vegan_Venom



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Character Study, Lesbian Character of Color, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-17
Updated: 2017-03-17
Packaged: 2018-10-06 15:45:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,411
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10338148
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vegan_Venom/pseuds/Vegan_Venom
Summary: How Éponine comes to love and trust one person in particular.Inspired by the gorgeous ÉposetteartwhichWeisbrothas been posting lately.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I intentionally left the era ambiguous, so depending on how you want to read it, it's either Canon Era by default, with no mention of the specific issues our main characters would have faced due to their races, or it's a Modern AU with slightly-too-old-fashioned wording.

Éponine did not trust easily. Growing up, she and her sister Azelma had been doted on by their parents, given pretty dresses and shiny toys with which they could taunt the other children adopted into their household. As a young girl Éponine had loved her mother and father, but when times became hard for the Thénardiers, she soon learned that their love for her was fickle. To them she was a mere pawn, an innocent young face to part naïve adults from their money. And since she preyed on people’s trust to get by, Éponine knew better than to give hers to anyone else.

It was during such an act of deception that Éponine realised her mistake. Only seventeen, she was well practised in withholding her faith in people, but not in withholding her love. Her neighbour Marius, a shy young white man a few years her senior, was patient and kind when her father sent her to knock on his door with a sob-story, begging for money. Generous and obviously from a well-off family, Marius was exactly the kind of man Éponine should have classed as an easy mark. And yet, as they talked in his doorway, she was struck with the desire to impress him. Éponine left his rooms with far less money than she could have extracted from the man, but she feared she had left her heart with him.

Marius quickly became Éponine’s only friend, but despite her attempts at flirting he never showed her any hint of romantic interest in return. And not much later, Cosette appeared. Éponine didn’t recognise her at first - the cute, fat, happy young woman so different from the neglected, malnourished child she had once been. This older Cosette had warm, deep brown skin which practically glowed with health, black hair curling elegantly to frame a round, smiling face. Her makeup perfectly enhanced her symmetric features, and her cute, well-coordinated outfits flattered her large frame. In all, she exuded the vibrancy, femininity and easy trust which Éponine lacked. It should have been no surprise that Marius fell for her at first sight.

Marius asking her to deliver notes to Cosette in secret, sneaking around the girl’s overprotective father, was salt rubbed into the wound. The man was oblivious to Éponine’s crush, and so it seemed was Cosette, who tried again and again to strike up a girly friendship every time they talked. Cosette bore her no ill will from the bullying she’d suffered at Éponine’s hand as a child, which Éponine struggled to understand. Still, Cosette had come out on top in the end. She had a loving, if overbearing, father, a comfortable standard of living and a kind, wealthy young man courting her. Éponine had manipulative criminal parents, the threadbare clothes she’d worn since she was thirteen, and a crush who barely looked in her direction.

After a few months, Éponine gave in and became friends with the girl. Despite her jealousy, it was hard to resist Cosette’s easy charm and genuine smiles. Éponine came to look forward to spending time with her, and often sent her messages unrelated to Marius, wanting to know how she was doing. Many hours were spent daydreaming of her new friend, wondering what she would be wearing the next time they met. Éponine’s fascination with how Cosette looked was baffling at first, Cosette’s feminine dresses, stylish heels and signature lipstick a world away from her own unplanned, more androgynous look. Still, she thought about it often, and soon came to see the contrast between Marius - skinny, pale and awkward - and Cosette - big, Black and beautiful – as jarring. 

As refined company as she now kept, Éponine still had to work for her father to earn her upkeep. Neither of her friends knew much of what she had to do, and that was for the best. One day, perhaps half a year after meeting Marius, Éponine’s father devised an elaborate scheme to con some visitors to the city out of a rather large amount of money. For it Éponine needed to be dressed as a young man, and as she regarded herself in the mirror, chest bound beneath a cheap shirt and long black hair hidden under an ugly hat, she felt oddly confident. 

Strolling down the streets in her loose trousers and borrowed boots, her eyes were immediately drawn to the group of young women laughing outside a café, their flowing skirts coloured like the flowers blooming in the windowsills and pots around them. Cosette was among them, the prettiest blossom by far, and though Éponine should have continued walking, her feet drew her to the group without being commanded to. Cosette glanced up at the young man approaching, then looked again, recognising her friend. Éponine fought back a blush as a smile spread slowly across Cosette’s round face.

“Can I help you, monsieur?” she asked playfully, looking up at Éponine through her lashes.

Emboldened by the flimsy disguise, Éponine reached out and took one of Cosette’s hands in her own. “Perhaps, mademoiselle.” The hand was raised to her face, and Éponine pressed a lingering kiss to the soft skin. “I simply came to admire the first truly beautiful flower of Spring.”

Cosette did not pull her hand away, and perhaps she blushed too, but her skin was too dark to be sure. Her eyes were lowered to the ground, bashful, and her white teeth were making a dent in her plush lower lip. Éponine was struck with the thought that, as a man, she might be allowed to kiss Cosette, magenta lipstick smeared second-hand onto Éponine’s own, naked lips. The image flustered her so much that she quickly stammered out an apology, letting Cosette’s hand drop and marching on towards her mission. 

Distracted the whole time, Éponine failed to gain the trust of her marks, and when she was berated later by her father for returning empty-handed, her thoughts were only of her friend.

Was Éponine really so jealous of Cosette that she would try to lure her away from Marius? Did she want to somehow prove the girl’s infidelity, so that Marius might realise it was Éponine who had been there for him all along? Éponine’s thoughts circled in this way for days, and finally she decided to drown them out for a night.

She found Grantaire slumped in a dark corner booth at the Musain as usual, eyes closed and empty bottles littering the table in front of him. This man was one of Marius’ friends, introduced through Courfeyrac, and whereas Éponine found little in common with the rest of the rich, idealistic students, in Grantaire she saw a brother. Not a friend – they were both too distrustful for that – but a fellow cynic, battered by the world despite his young age, his crooked, sallow features reflecting his hardship, much like Éponine’s own. The man startled from his slumber when she sat down opposite him, two bottles banging against hardwood as she set them between them. It took a moment for Grantaire’s eyes to focus on her, regarding the drinks before even looking at his companion, but when they did he grinned widely.

“Éponine, my dear girl! And you come bearing alcohol, for which I thank you most sincerely. To what to I owe the pleasure?” Grantaire was slurring a little, but less than one would have expected given the empty bottles and glasses surrounding him.

“I just want to be distracted for a while,” she answered. “And you are always good at that.”

“I am good for little else, it’s true. But come now, tell a drunk what’s on your mind.”

Éponine frowned. “I don’t want to talk about it. Please, tell me what’s new in your life.”

“Oh, the same old rubbish!” Grantaire sighed dramatically, taking another mouthful. But he was clumsy, and some of the liquid trickled down his patchily stubbled chin to drip onto an already stained shirt. “I’d guess it’s the same as what’s bothering you. Love! Who has use for it? It’s just another stick which life uses to beat us.”

“I am not bothered by love,” Éponine protested, regretting telling the man about her fondness for Marius some weeks before. She’d thought Grantaire too drunk to remember, but he was clearly accustomed to holding his alcohol.

“Sure you’re not,” he pretended to agree. “You don’t spend nights dreaming of… I don’t know what you see in him. Bony elbows? Freckles? Dusty hair? Just as I am never kept awake by thoughts of golden curls, pink lips, and a face full of righteous fury.”

“There’s a woman you like?” she asked, trying to distract herself from the realisation that she never dreamed of _Marius_ any more.

Grantaire laughed suddenly, and took another long pull from his bottle. “There is no woman in my life,” he agreed after a time, his tone amused and self-deprecating at once.

“But you want there to be?” Éponine questioned, trying to figure out what was so funny. “Did she reject you?”

“I am rejected every time I open my wretched mouth to speak. But I’d never dare to… to attempt courtship. I am beyond unworthy. A gargoyle to an angel.”

At the mention of angels, an image of a beautiful girl with a glowing smile and flowing skirts flashed through Éponine’s mind. She quickly pushed it away. “I’m sure it’s not so bad,” she attempted to commiserate. “You are funny, witty, and kind with your friends. Ask how she feels before you give up all hope.”

“It’s not so simple.” Grantaire’s shoulders slumped further, and he pushed away his newest bottle, already empty. “This angel shows no interest in romance, let alone romance with me. Their heart belongs to France and no other. I will die waiting for the day he looks at me with anything but contempt.”

“He?” Éponine repeated, shocked. 

Grantaire flushed. Clearly he hadn’t meant to reveal that during his drunken rambling.

“I’m so sorry for assuming,” she apologised. Her mistake corrected, Éponine quickly realised who Grantaire must have meant. “The leader of your group of students then? The blond who’s always giving speeches?”

Grantaire sighed, glassy eyes gazing into the distance as though picturing his love. “Enjolras,” he pronounced reverently. “He is not so much a man as a god, the earthly embodiment of passion and beauty, but so cruelly uninterested in any facets of love.”

Éponine tried to listen as her companion continued to wax poetic over the man, but she was too caught up in her own thoughts. Of course, she’d known that a person could fall in love with someone of the same gender. But somehow Éponine had never thought it could apply to anyone she knew… or indeed to herself. Blood rushing to her ears, Éponine stumbled to her feet.

“Are you alright?” she heard Grantaire ask distantly, and she thought she managed to nod as she stumbled away from their table and towards the door. Before she could get outside however, a figure entered the bar, blocking her way.

“Éponine,” the figure spoke, and she would recognise that lilting voice anywhere.

Éponine tried to move around her friend to leave, but couldn’t resist sneaking a look her face as she did so. What she saw made her stop in her tracks. Cosette was smiling as always, but it was tinged with sadness. A streak of black marred her cheek just below her left eye, and Éponine realised that Cosette must have smudged her makeup from crying.

“Cosette, what’s wrong?”

Cosette took Éponine’s arm and led her outside and around the corner, away from the eyes of those on the street. “I need to confess something to you,” she admitted, crinkling her forehead in worry. Éponine thought it did the sweetest thing to her eyebrows.

“Alright,” Éponine agreed warily, taking the other woman’s hand in hers for comfort.

Cosette looked down at their hands and smiled. Without looking up again, she spoke. “Marius proposed.”

The floor dropped out from under Éponine’s feet. In keeping with the revelation she had experienced just minutes prior, Éponine felt no jealousy at all towards Cosette, and monumental levels of it towards Marius. It never could have worked between the two girls, but now with marriage separating them it felt set in stone.

“Congratulations,” Éponine muttered, trying desperately to appear happy for her friend.

Cosette bit her lip, and once again it was supremely distracting. “I... Éponine, I said ‘no’.”

Éponine glanced up, puzzled. “No to what?”

Cosette huffed, a gentle puff of air from her nose, but her face remained kind and patient, if a little nervous. “I refused Marius’ offer of marriage.”

“I don’t understand.” Éponine could not handle this many emotions. What was her friend trying to say?

“I fear I have broken his heart, but Courfeyrac is with him now, and I am confident that he will mend quickly. But I thought it kinder to dispel his hopes now, rather than later. You see, I cannot love him. My heart belongs to another.”

Éponine gazed at Cosette, perfect in every way – patterned blue dress fluttering around her ankles in the wind, and matching powder dusting her eyelids, highlighting the warm brown of her eyes. It was too much to know that this angel would be taken from her not once, but twice in one evening. “Who?” she croaked, willing herself not to cry.

Their hands were still entwined – Éponine had almost forgotten – and Cosette brought them up to her face, pressing her lips to Éponine’s knuckles. The action left a pink mark on her light brown skin, but Éponine could not tear her eyes away from Cosette’s deep gaze. “I’m in love with _you_ ,” Cosette whispered.

There were no further moments of doubt for Éponine. As difficult as it was for her to trust, she recognised her words as truth. All this time, Éponine had pictured Marius between them, drawing them to him, but looking back, he had merely been in the way.

Grinning broadly, Éponine pulled on their clasped hands, drawing Cosette near then gathering the woman in her arms. Cosette giggled as she was lifted clean off the ground, throwing her arms around Éponine’s shoulders and then leaning down to press her lips firmly against the other woman’s. They both broke apart from the kiss smiling from ear to ear, and Éponine had never seen anything as beautiful before – pure joy on the face of the person she loved and trusted beyond measure.

**Author's Note:**

> Go look at [Weisbrot's](http://weisbrot.tumblr.com/) gorgeous art, then follow me and talk to [me on tumblr](http://veganvenom.tumblr.com/).


End file.
